Dona Rita looked at us all in turn, with surprise and, as it were, with suspicion.

"How did he know I was here ?" she whispered after looking at the card which was brought to her.

She passed it to Blunt, who passed it to Mills, who made a faint grimace, dropped it on the table-cloth, and only whispered to me, "A journalist from Paris." "He has run me to earth," said Dona Rita.

"One would bargain for peace against hard cash if these fellows weren't always ready to snatch at one's very soul with the other hand.

It frightens me." Her voice floated mysterious and penetrating from her lips, which moved very little.